Autumn Fire
by Shadow Countess
Summary: HSN. One moment, one decision, is all it takes to steal a life. Because of a secret, a mistake, and him, she lost all that she lived for. She hated him, refused to forgive him, so he could only stay at the side and watch her fade. Shinji x Yoriena, my OC
1. Crossing Paths

**Artworks:** I got my friend, Monkey, to do a few pictures of Yoriena, Hikatori in sealed form, and an _Autumn Fire_ Omake. You can link to it from my FanFiction profile page, or go to my deviantArt gallery (username's Shadow-Countess).

**Disclaimer: **Bleach and all related concepts belong to Tite Kubo. I own nothing save this plot and my character, Soroki Yoriena.

**

* * *

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**Hime no Shizukana Namida**  
_Silent Tears of the Princess_

_Every girl enters this world to be a princess to her parents and the guy she will eventually love. Where she comes from, be it the slums of Rukongai or the noble houses of First District, does not matter if it is true love she and her man feel. It is a girl's life, fate, to be spoiled and pampered by the one who loves her so._

_These are tales of meetings, either planned by fate or by family, that bring about a lifetime of love and delight for the princesses of their men's hearts. These are tales of tears shed by princesses as they learn to embrace their futures, their fears, their joys, and their loves._

_Let the tale begin._

**~.~.~.~**

**Autumn Fire**  
_A Soroki Yoriena & Hirako Shinji Novel_

_**Chapter I**  
__Crossing Paths_  


**_By Shadow Countess_**

**~.~.~.~**

_**This is a tale that took place after the infiltration of Soul Society and before the attack of the Arrancars. It was just a few months break for Gotei Thirteen to prepare for the upcoming battle, for Aizen to strengthen his army, and for the ryokas to settle down in the World of the Living. After all, what can possibly happen during this short period of time?**_

_**For two souls, everything.**_

**~.~.~.~**

Autumn...

Though it lacked the tranquil greenery of spring, the brilliant vibrancy of summer, and the cool composedness of winter, it possessed a quiet, endearing charm of its own. A charm no other season could emulate.

Like she did.

Leaves, dry and crisp, detangled from the spidery webs of branches and fell to the ground, readily sharing their colors with the otherwise dull gray path. Streams of sunlight filtered in through the canopy, blending and melting the hues of red and gold. The creation of these magical caresses was a canvas of fiery flames licking at brown tree trunks.

The former taichou of Gotei Thirteen's Fifth Division took a deep breath, letting cool air refreshen his lungs. Deep hazel eyes peeked from beneath his blond fringe to rove and take in anything and everything within sight. Not that there was much to see. Few visited the forest for it was located too far away from town, and authorities just could not be bothered with sprucing up the place.

Which was why he frequented the woods. Sometimes, even the loud and obnoxiously rude Hirako Shinji needed to be alone, away from other creatures capable of thoughts. Company just wasn't what he desired or appreciated at a time like this. What he longed for was the peace and serenity the forest brimmed with; it washed over him like tidal waves engulfing tiny islands and soothed his ruffled thoughts.

The magical moment was soon destroyed by a blast of music. An ugly scowl flittered over his thin countenance as he pulled his cellphone out from his pocket with uncharacteristic roughness. The brief glance he cast at the screen was one of deep annoyance. Though he ended the chimes with a few taps, the damage was done. His good mood had dissipated.

It was time for work.

"Dammit," Shinji swore and added a few words not fit for most to hear. It wasn't the first time he had considered resigning his waitering job, but the mere thought of Hiyori's wrath was enough to change his mind. No way was he spending the next few months groveling at the feet of fat, brainless bosses and having Hiyori bitch his ears off with her banshee-like screeches.

Speak of the devil. Once again, his phone rang, only this time, it was to alert him of an incoming call. Huffing a sigh, he answered with a curt greeting. "Hiyori."

"_Dumbass, why didn't you say 'Hello'?"_

Sepia-hued eyes rolled with exasperation at her demand. "I forgot," he mumbled distractedly, hungrily devouring the last of his surroundings in an attempt to remember even the tiniest detail of the magnificent scene. Who knew when his next visit would be?

"_Dickhead,"_ scolded the other vizard irately, _"Yoruichi-san said that someone's coming later so you better come back straight from work. I'll kick your ass into the next century if you don't."_

Choosing to ignore her not so feminine but very direct threat, he questioned indifferently, "Did she say who?"

"_I won't tell you even if I know." _With that, the line was cut off. Growling words he would never let her hear, he cast a final, lingering look at his personal haven and set off on the return path.

**~.~.~.~**

Each click of heels against cement ground brought about an internal wince as she strode down the path. Waves of auburn hair cascaded down her back, waterfall-like, to hang level to her waist. The gentle touch of sunlight brought out the redness in those silky strands, forming a gorgeous contrast with the cream-colored sweater she was wearing.

Every now and then, wolf whistles were tossed her way by guys trying to catch her attention. She simply ignored them. Those who stepped forward to brave a word soon shrank away under the icy stare of her hard, unforgiving eyes.

A small café awaited at the end of the trail. Disappointment dusted those smoky orbs of green as she swung the glass door open with a heavy sigh. Contrary to initial belief, the park was too small for shunpo training. What she needed was a large, secluded forest.

A slight shiver ran down her spine at the blast of frosty air that danced forward as a greeting. She cast a look of longing at the outside, already missing the wind. Though she had come from a division with modern equipments installed by her filthily rich third seat, she still preferred the natural chill. Also, never had they used air conditioners in autumn when the wind was nothing but heavenly.

The café was small but cozy with soft lighting, couches of cream that contrasted wondrously with the dark-colored wooden tables, and many abstract paintings that lined the walls. As she made her way down the aisle, towards an empty table by the window, the fukutaichou of Second Division winced each time her shoes squeaked against the laminated flooring.

That was it, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Not that she was a camel.

_I will _not_ put up with his nonsense again_, she vowed silently. With the fluff of her sweater pricking her skin, her shoes announcing her every move, and the overall stiffness of the gigai, she had enough reason on her side to patrol without the mess. Kisuke and his gigai could go to hell for all she cared. Never again was she walking around nosier than a chicken incapable of shutting its beak.

"How can I help you?"

She arched a brow at the waiter who handed her a menu. He was around eighteen, gangly, bespectacled, and terribly freckled. His dark hair was gelled into a mob, a tuft sticking from the side, and he was _blushing_. How pathetic. He reminded her of the clumsy, stammering fool from the Fourth.

_What's his name again?_ she pondered scathingly. Though she didn't bully the medics the way those uncouth thugs from Eleventh Division did, she didn't exactly look up to them either. Her cold indifference and, mayhap, hatred, blossomed from the deep detestation she held for their taichou.

Unohana Retsu.

The one who had betrayed her young, trusting heart.

A long time ago, when she was still a naïve, gullible girl, she had admired the older woman and her healing powers. She herself had difficulties with basic kidou while the taichou could manage the most intricate ones without problems. Furthermore, she had always appeared to be helpful, kind, and understanding.

Yes, she had wanted to be like her.

Until she realized that everything was a lie, a façade to hide her true self. Unohana's kindness was nothing but a show. Everything about her was one. When the time for her to demonstrate her noble spirits, the one she claimed to have, had come, she had shied. When it was time for her to speak up for her comrades, she had kept her lips clammed shut. Not a single word had left that dainty mouth of hers.

Despicable. Utterly despicable.

The reverence she had once held eroded away. In its place was deep-seated hatred. From then on, she despised Unohana, despised the way she hid her menace, her inner devil, behind a forever serene and smiling mask. No longer could she stand the way Unohana threatened others

with a devilish smile—something she had once stupidly marveled—just because she could, just because she was the oldest, and perhaps the strongest, taichou after Yamamoto.

Unohana's betrayal had shaken Yoriena the way Yoruichi's departure had affected Soifon. It had shattered what little trust she had built up for her dark childhood had left her wary of others. It had stripped away what little innocence she had left, leaving her a cold, emotionless shadow of her former self.

Angered, Yoriena's reiatsu flared. A quick frown flittered over her forehead as she clamped down onto it, an instinctive reaction owing to her Onmitsukidou training. _Get a grip_. It wouldn't do for others to sense her because she was being childish.

"Um, miss?"

Brows scrunched; she focused on the human before her. _Where was I? Oh yes, my order._ She paused to examine the long list. Why were there so many choices?

"A diet coke, I guess." It was the only human drink she had ever heard of. "And..." she trailed off, scrutinizing the fine prints, and nibbled on her bottom lip.

Gnawing on her own lips was a subconscious habit she couldn't kick despite having tried her hardest to do so, especially after the bout of serious thinking that had left them torn and bloody. Ignoring her angry protests, an insistent Soifon had dragged her to the Fourth after she had turned every glass of water touching her lips red and salty.

"One tuna salad." How bad could a salad be?

"You like them too? They're my favorite!"

The answer was 'very'.

The waiter cringed under the far from friendly gaze she cast him at his comment. The corners of her lips tightened ever so slightly with distaste. He could almost see disdainful thoughts of 'Who's this jerk?' and 'Should I change my orders to shut him up?' running through her mind. He then decided to do the only smart thing he could think of—leave.

"I'll serve your food soon."

She offered him a dispassionate tip of head before leaning against the seat, watching him return to the counter.

_A computerized screen_, she mused as his fingers darted across the glass,_ maybe Omaeda can get one installed_. It was amazing how those brainless fools named 'humans' could invent something so useful. Then again, they had all the time in the world, seeing they didn't have to fight against hollows on a regular, if not daily, basis. They even had time to wage wars against each other for the mere fun of it.

"Here's your food, miss." She nodded curtly, slipped him a note with a cool 'Keep the change', and let him set the plateon the table. "Please enjoy."

As he turned to leave, the bell of the café sounded a clear chime when the door it was hanging over opened. Yoriena stiffened momentarily upon catching a whiff of delicious cinnamon that touched a certain nerve within her. A wave of warm nostalgia overwhelmed. Fingers coiled.

It wasn't him, was it?

_It isn't. You're just being delusional_, she scolded mentally, and was taking a sip of iced coke when someone brushed past her, knocking against her arm.

"Sorry," muttered a low voice.

She tilted her head, about to give him one of her infamous death glares that could unnerve even the brutes from Eleventh Division, when she saw his face. The mask of icy indifference she had always taken care to wear faded away. Eyes widened.

It was he.

Though his signature long hair was cut short, there was no mistaking the flat glare he shot at her, the downward turn of lips, and the bright yellow tresses. A small, uncharacteristic smile tugged her lips, forming on her stoic features. Confident voice came out as a hesitant yet excited call.

"Shinji-sama?"

He blinked those chocolate-colored eyes of his and stared blankly down at her. Without a sign of recognition, he asked the question that sent shock crossing her nearly always impassive countenance and wiped away her smile instantaneously.

"Who are you?"

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**Summary for Chapter II**

The two souls couldn't help but cross paths in a town as small as Karakura. Or maybe, they just couldn't defy fate. So, they met again after an entire century apart. Shinji had two choices—acknowledge her, or ignore her. What will she do when he chose the latter since shedding tears, whining, and throwing the most spectacular tantrums is just not her? But neither is taking it quietly, wordlessly, and letting him stomp over her the way one would do with a doormat.

She would say something.

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Authoress' Note:** To be continued...

Some information before you continue with the story:

Firstly, _Hime no Shizukana Namida_ (HSN) is a series of Bleach fics, both novels and one-shots, I hope to write. The novels have interlinked plots while one-shots are purely for entertainment and do not follow the main plot. However, they do feature the same pairings, either between canon characters or with my own. The list of HSN fics is on my profile.

Secondly, Soifon is listed as a main character because she will be playing a crucial role. I want to give her the recognition she deserves. Also, to the best of my abilities, Yoriena will not be a Mary Sue. She has flaws that will be revealed with the progression of the plot.

Thirdly, though I will be touching on other pairings in this story, they will not be the center of attention. As this will not be my only Bleach novel, I hope to explore and play out the other characters, main or not, and pairings in the other stories. So it's just a glimpse of them here and there for this one.

I'm nagging. So, I hope that this has lived up to your expectations as a Shinji x OC fic, and feel free to review and criticize as you deem fit. I'm open to critiques so long they're objective and constructive. Anonymous reviews are welcomed too! And if you've come late in the show, know that I won't mind an individual review for each chapter.

Thank you.


	2. A Talk

**Disclaimer:** Bleach and all related concepts belong to Tite Kubo. I own nothing save this plot and my characters, Soroki Yoriena and Abukara Tanaka.

* * *

**Autumn Fire**  
_A Soroki Yoriena & Hirako Shinji Novel_

_**Chapter II**  
__A Talk_  


**_By Shadow Countess_**

**~.~.~.~**

_**The two souls couldn't help but cross paths in a town as small as Karakura. Or maybe, they just couldn't defy fate. So, they met again after an entire century apart. Shinji had two choices—acknowledge her, or ignore her. What will she do when he chose the latter since shedding tears, whining, and throwing the most spectacular tantrums is just not her? But neither is taking it quietly, wordlessly, and letting him stomp over her the way one would do with a doormat.**_

_**She would say something.**_

**~.~.~.~**

"Who are you?"

The way the sentence rolled off his lips sounded as though he told girls that they had gotten the wrong guy on a regular basis. The grin he offered her was relaxed, teasing and even flirtatious, his tone casual, and his lie effortless.

Or so it seemed.

Despite his calm demeanor, the hand tucked in his pocket balled into a tight fist. Nails dug into the lined flesh of his palm, leaving white, crescent-shaped marks. His breath hitched. Although he did fib to girls every now and then, it wasn't part of his daily agenda to meet a girl from his past. Having her recognize him like they had just met the day before simply worsened the situation. Every muscle was taut as he waited for her reaction.

Like a light being switched off, the shock scrawled over her features vanished, giving way to pure aloofness. "I'm sorry, I must have made a mistake," was her frosty apology. "Please forgive me." Eyes of grayish-green held his in a steady, unwavering stare. Two could play the game.

Wow. It was his turn to be surprised. Though he had always known that Yoriena wouldn't throw tantrums like Mashiro or curse like Hiyori, a reaction of some sort would have been nice.

"Do you need anything?"

Her frigid question jerked him out of his thoughts; he pulled himself back into reality, only to find a pair of emotionless eyes boring into him. "No, nothing," was his murmured answer. 'What's wrong with you?' was what he wanted to ask, but that would mean acknowledging her, something his pride refused to let him do. If she hadn't cared about his feelings, he wouldn't care about hers too.

She watched as he moved off and chewed on her lower lip. His lie was only too obvious. Despite his attempt to play it cool, his deliberate indifference was overdone and the tense guardedness in his eyes simply gave him away. That, and the clenched fist in his pocket.

She scoffed. Seriously, whom did he think he was fooling was such a lowly trick?

Yet, why did he say what he did?

Brows puckered. If the problem was obstinate pride, his obstinate pride...Damn him. She cleared her throat and called for him to wait. He turned in time to see her roll her eyes of molten emerald and silver.

"Screw this," she muttered, before raising her voice and demanding coolly. "Why don't you stop your damn act? It's getting annoying."

"What?" Coffee-tinted eyes blinked in bewilderment. How did she see though, as she had so charmingly put it, his damn act?

Yoriena drummed her fingers on the tabletop and groaned, "You heard me the first time." Head nodded at the empty seat across the table. "Sit down, we need to talk. You owe me as much."

Up lifted an eyebrow; eyes narrowed to cast the very flat glare that was his trademark. "What do you mean by 'I owe you as much'?"

The shinigami huffed a sigh of sheer exasperation. "Can you please sit down? It's tiring having to look up at you all the time."

He obeyed, with every display of reluctance. Eyes watched him as she continued. "I meant that you owe me an explanation for disappearing just like that. The higher-ups refused to say anything, so all was left to wild speculations and rumors."

She leaned forward. "That may satisfy others, but not me." Eyes held his in an intense glare. "I want the truth. From you."

Silence.

He would rather die than confess, but he found her steely gaze unnerving and even, scary. Gone was the quiet and sweet girl of ten he had left—shinigamis aged normally till their prime of sixteen, else all would end up as fifty-year-old babies. In her place was a hostile girl around eighteen in human years. Yoriena had changed so much, and not just appearance-wise. He could no longer say he knew her.

"Are you really Yoriena?"

More silence.

"What are you talking about? Of course I am." Her response was laced with stark impatience. "Who else can I be?"

He lowered his gaze to the tabletop. "I don't know either," doleful voice admitted. "You're so different from before."

"Did you honestly expect to see a ten year old? It's been a century since we last met." The quiet reminder struck him. "There's so much we've missed out on, so much we have to catch up on...That is, if you want to."

He hesitated, and nodded. "Yes, I want to."

**~.~.~.~**

"Kensei-baka, I want bubble tea!"

Said vizard rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Then buy it and stop bothering me." With that, he returned to the task of sharpening his zanpakutou.

Camouflage green eyes widened with hurt; lower lip jutted out into a pout. "Why can't you buy it for me?"

"'Cause I'm busy. And you can walk to the store. It's only five frickin' minutes," he growled, not even looking at his former fukutaichou. Mashiro was getting onto his nerves. "Go call Hirako and ask him to bring you a cup."

"I wanna drink it now, and Shinji won't remember. He's so out of it nowadays!"

A wave of hushed silence washed over the room. All ex-shinigamis froze and dropped whatever they were doing.

Once again, without meaning to, Mashiro had struck jackpot. Though all agreed that Shinji had not been himself for the past days, ever since he returned from Urahara Shouten, none had wanted to be the one who brought the topic up.

Ever since Shinji had visited Yoruichi, he hadn't been himself. He was more likely to snap than an aggravated bulldog, moody, pensive, and had kept to himself more than before. Sure, he had never been the most eager to share his heart with others, but he was even quieter than before. He seemed to have withdrawn into his private shell.

And that worried them.

Chances to interrogate him had slipped past one after another. When he looked as distressed and tired as he did those days, no one, not even Hiyori, had the heart to bombard him with endless questions. Yet, they all wanted the old Hirako Shinji back.

They wanted to be rid of the alien whom they were certain had abducted their friend, but none knew how to. As a last resort, they had interrogated Yoruichi on his visit to her place.

Her reply was devoid of helpful information, save blatant stressing on the fact that it was wrong to share others' secrets, and she had no intention of being wrong. Arced eyebrows and incredulous stares received her speech. Since when did the free-spirited woman care about what's wrong and what's not?

Then again, she had always abided by her own code of honor. Forcing her to give in was as good as negotiating with a rock. No...Experience had taught them that the latter was more favorable and cooperative.

So now, they were back on square one—putting up with Shinji.

"He'd mention 'Hime' in his sleep the other day," Mashiro quipped, a finger on her chin.

"Speaking of that, I heard it too," Love added, "he was calling out in his dreams."

Lisa glanced over. "Hime?" she echoed. A frown. It didn't make sense. She had always thought that Shinji, like them all, had learnt to put shinigamis behind. So why did he bring Yoriena up, after ten decades of not mentioning her name?

**~.~.~.~**

"So now, you're a part hollow?" she mused.

Slowly, hesitantly, Shinji had brought Aizen's betrayal and the horrors of hollowfication to life with his words.

"Does it affect your daily life?" Yoriena probed with faint traces of caution. They had agreed to share their pasts and divulge secrets, like before, but his voice held a dark undertone, one she greatly disliked. Conversing with him had lost its former ease and relaxation; it was now like treading on thin ice.

"We do lose control every now and then, but the occurrences have decreased as the years go by," he confessed. His eyes were hard and challenging, daring her to shrink away in disgust. She kept her eyes locked to his, the sliver of fear that pooled within her fading away.

"I'm sorry." Unlike before, her apology was sincere.

He drew a breath and looked around for a topic to switch to before things got out of hand. "I can't believe you're already a fukutaichou," he teased with a forced grin. "Why, you were only this tall when I left." He raised a hand to indicate her height.

Indignant-filled voice retorted, "I was _not_ shorter than Hitsugaya-taichou. You're lying." A tiny smile coiled her lips. Yes, she had noted and appreciated his effort at keeping things civil.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"You're just in denial, and you're one very stubborn jerk."

"I'm a jerk?" He raised a brow and decided to let it drop when she affirmed with a nod. She would never admit to it, but she could be really pigheaded at times.

Shinji leaned forward with his hands before him, fingers entwined. "So, how do you like being a fukutaichou?"

"Pretty alright, I guess." She shrugged indifferently. "Just a hell lot of paperwork." She offered him a smirk. "Though you probably can't empathize for I doubt you even filled a form as a taichou. As much as I hate him, I admit that Aizen did all the work."

Shinji thinned his eyes and cast her a flat glare. "Says who?" He tapped a finger. "I bet Hiyori's gone around spreading untrue rumors about me."

"Yeah, right." Yoriena rolled her eyes. "Do I look like I'll fall for gossip? Of course there's proof." Pale cerise lips parted to sound a reminiscing sigh. "Those were good old days, no? When she bullied you everyday."

"She still does," was his disgruntled mumble.

"Be glad at least that's still the same." She glanced up and shrugged casually. "Everything else has changed. Seireitei's no longer the same as before. New leaders, new subordinates...The way divisions are run is different, too."

At her words, a dark shadow shaded his features, for they reminded him of what Yoruichi had told him before.

"_It's been a century, Shinji. You can't blame her for moving on. Do you honestly want her to be miserable everyday, clinging to her memories of us?"_ Golden eyes of the woman had bored into him. _"Things change. I've learnt to accept that. You should too."_

Moving on. The thought bore into him, painfully. "Yoriena, I want you to answer me truthfully."

She curved a brow at the sudden darkening of atmosphere. She nodded her head, warily. "What do you want to know?"

He took a deep breath. "Did you miss me after I left? Think of me every now and then?"

She balked. "Of course I did."

"Then why didn't you ask Yoruichi about us?"

Gray-tinted eyes of ivy blinked. Confusion colored her delicate countenance as she repeated wonderingly. "Ask sensei about you?" She recoiled as his words registered. "I wanted to, but—"

"But it wasn't worth wasting your precious time?"

Yoriena flinched at the struck of those harsh words. She lifted her gaze to glare defiantly into his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Tone coated with ice questioned. If there was one thing she hated, it was having others speak unfound muck about her. She would accept criticisms and accusations if she had done something dishonorable, but lies were vulgar.

"Go on, tell me. When you three were enjoying your happy reunion, did you even think about the rest of us? Or did Soifon brainwash you to think of no one but her precious _Yoruichi-sama_?"

"Leave taichou out of this," Yoriena growled, eyes darkening to a deep shade of silver. Raging anger coiled in the pit of her stomach. "She didn't do anything but keep me safe and sane after you happily turned traitor."

"I turned traitor?" Shinji snorted in disbelief. "Really, has Soifon taken over your mind?"

"I told you, leave my taichou out of this," the irate shinigami repeated, seething through tightly clenched teeth.

"Then, look me in the eye and answer."

Eyes narrowed; she raised them, smoky pupils drilling into hazel ones.

"I did miss you, but there's no point explaining, 'cause you're too immature to comprehend." Terse voice snapped. Damn him. She had swallowed her pride and called him back, so why did he have to ruin it with his childishness? It wasn't like he owned her, and had to be on her mind all the time.

"I never knew you'll lie like a coward," was his growled reply.

She inhaled deeply, tremblingly. Sibilant voice hissed very threateningly. "If I'm a coward, then what are you? A word too low to be registered?"

A flinch. Anger stormed his eyes. "Fuck you." With that, he stood up and left without shifting his enraged glare away from Yoriena's disgustingly calm face—

Only to crash into something—someone—soft and cushiony. Yoriena permitted herself a smirk at the horror splaying across Shinji's features.

"Hirako Shinji. You came late yet you still flirt during your shift?" Numerous pairs of eyes turned towards them, the customers' attention drawn by the loud, nasal voice. The shinigami arched a brow of faint amusement. So they were flirting? With shouts and curses? Lips curled into a tiny smile. Humans were a good source of comic relief.

_Oh God, spare me_. He groaned miserably as he forced his neck to twist and looked at his furious manager. One colossal hand reached out, thick fingers clasping at his shirt collar. A rough jerk threw him off balance.

Entertained diners watched as the lanky blond staggered backwards to prevent being thrown onto the ground and towed away like a sack of potatoes. His shoes slipped and squealed against the wooden floor. He thought he heard a faint jeer as the cooling room melted into a sweltering hot kitchen.

**~.~.~.~**

"Care you explain your tardiness? Maybe your car broke down?" Spiders—tarantulas—of unease and disgust scurried down his skin at his boss' sneer. Squinty eyes of gray widened with feint regret as he continued. "Oh, forgive me. You're too _poor_ to own anything with wheels."

Shinji grimaced at the low blow, and fought against the burning urge to slam his fist into the older man's face for the mere sake of wiping that taunting leer away. Sinews trembled.

_Do not do it._ Sakanade's crystal clear voice reverberated through his wielder's rage-addled mind; his inner hollow mocked him for being a coward who did not dare stand up to a weak human. Greatly annoyed by their resemblance to a broken tape recorder, he blocked both voices out.

"You—"

_Dammit, not again_, Shinji's exhausted mind whined as he steeled himself for the onslaught of his manager's infamous speech. Hearing those words of 'You loser better be grateful for this job' once more would drive him up the wall. He had heard them so many times—a thousand, give or take a couple of occurrences when the lecture was altered by a single word—that he could deliver it by heart. Not that he had any intention of becoming a smelly old bastard. He liked being who he was.

The impulse to roll his eyes, stomp his feet, and throw a Mashiro-like tantrum strengthened with each second that passed. It was so damn tempting to toss the greasy-faced man out of the window as Abukara progressed to the 'Do you know how many people would die to be in your shoes' part of the talk.

Lean body shifted restlessly. Mind wondered how many would rather die than take his place, or die once they did. He flexed his fingers while waiting for the tirade to end.

Finally, it did. He sighed. It was his turn to placate his boss.

"I'm sorry, Abukara-san." Oh, the lies he sprouted for his convenience. Eyes kept locked to the floor of linoleum.

_Let him think it's out of respect_. In truth, he wasn't sure if he could stop himself from doing something drastic and uncalled for—in that bastard's opinion, at least—if he looked into those calculating, piggish eyes.

"I'll be on task from now on," Shinji promised.

Abukara crowed with a lift of bushy eyebrows, another insult he just had to add to the pile. "Just what do you see in that stick-thin bitch? I always thought you have better tastes."

The head of yellow hair snapped up at the insult. Sudden rage pulsed through his veins; a low, predatory growl formed at the base of his throat.

"But maybe you'll know. Is she any good in be—" Abukara found himself cut off by a feral snarl from his worker.

"Do not—" Hirako paused, eyes aflame, a growl deep within his throat, "—insult her." Fist clenched, teeth ground. What rights did he have to refer to Yoriena as a slut who bedded every being in pants? How dare he insult her honors?

Brown eyes, bright with fury, glared into dull ones. The corners of Shinji's lips were turned downwards, set in the most intense scowl Abukara Tanaka had ever witnessed. With one last condescending glare, Shinji grabbed a pad of paper and a pen before stalking off.

**~.~.~.~**

_What's wrong with you?_ The question he had wanted to ask crossed her mind. Their conversations had been playing along perfectly save short periods of awkward silences here and there, so why did he have to ruin it? That, and the stark unhappiness layering his tone...

A couple of bubbles floated to the liquid's surface; she ignored them. Eyes watched the scene beyond the windows, following the gentle movements of auburn leaves as they detached from the branches and floated to the ground.

Thoughts scrambled through her mind.

_Why wasn't he happy to see me? _Fingers played with the straw. _I was...And I thought he'd miss me after the century._ The empty feeling weighing at the pit of her stomach widened, making her feel sick. It wasn't fair.

Ever since that fateful day that had stolen him from her, she had not spent a single day not missing him, his cheeky smile, and his sassy jokes. Others had found his personality annoying, but she had loved it so. After he had left, her life just was not the same. And she thought he had felt the same way. Apparently, she was wrong.

_I've been wasting my time on him, haven't I? _Yoriena sighed after shooting a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. She still had two hours to waste before meeting Kisuke and Yoruichi. They had promised a surprise for her, and courtesy demanded that she turned up, despite not being interested.

Ears pricked, picking up the clear clacking of soles against the parquet floor. Irises slid to watch Shinji as he waltzed across the room. She sucked in her bottom lip and chewed on the tender flesh as she noted his tense back muscles and slight slump of shoulders.

_The meeting didn't go well, eh?_ Resting her jaw on an upturned palm, she shifted in her seat and strained to catch his conversation. She watched him bend over to get the girl's order of latte; a sigh. Unlike his lying skills, his flirting ones have improved greatly if the deep blush the girl spotted was any indication.

Just then, a short but loud melody caught her attention. Fingers unclasped the purse she had brought, and fished a silvery phone out from its depths. A shadow of a smile dusted her features when she read the message on the screen:

_Soutaichou has agreed. I'll meet you at the café ten minutes later._

Yoriena rolled her eyes. Once again, despite the undetectable gigai she was in, her taichou had managed to track her down. An eyebrow arched. Maybe, just maybe, the cellphone was equipped with a tracking device. Lips pursed. She would ask Kisuke to take a look later.

She cast a subtle glance in Shinji's direction. Unlike his awkward lying, few could spot her more refined spying. She pressed a shoulder against the huge window; the welcomed cold seeped through her sweater to caress her skin.

A single tooth ground against her bottom lip. It was decidedly odd, not to mention uncomfortable, watching Shinji serve others instead of being served. Taichous had their fukutaichous, other subordinates, and maids to serve them, after all. Not that she did any serving.

Yoriena tipped her head, deciding to spend those hours brushing up her shunpo and letting Soifon catch her, instead of watching Shinji.

**~.~.~.~**

"How can I help you?" Eyes the coloration of bright blue turned towards him as he asked with a wide but insincere grin.

"A latte, please. Without cream." Long curling lashes of pale blond dusted the girl's cheeks with each flutter of eyes. A small smile lifted her lips. "I'm Juliet."

Brown eyes blinked. He knew he was attractive and all, but never had he expected a girl to be this eager. Still, he offered her an impish smirk. "Shinji."

He was all too familiar with the steps that followed—an exchange of cellphone numbers, a promise to call, and a bit more flirting—before he left to get her drink. When he passed by Yoriena's table, he was faintly aware of her leaving, yet refused to look in her direction. The hell hanging above the glass door chimed, announcing her departure.

A gust of breeze flounced in.

Shinji's toned frame straightened. Muscles tightened; joints locked. Those eyes of mahogany widened with pure horror at the sweet, delicate scent that fluttered towards him.

The scent of violets...

* * *

**Summary for Chapter III**

Regardless of what he had said, he clearly cared for her. So why did he push her away yet defend her honors? Despite her aloofness, his actions had hurt and confused her. She desperately wanted an explanation.

Little did she know it would come sooner than she expected, bringing with it the dark revelations of his changes, when his instincts were triggered by her fragrance—violets.


	3. Painful Reality

**Disclaimer:** Bleach and all related concepts belong to Tite Kubo. I own nothing save this plot and my character, Soroki Yoriena.

* * *

**Autumn Fire**  
_A Soroki Yoriena & Hirako Shinji Novel_

_**Chapter III**  
__Painful Reality_  


**_By Shadow Countess_**

~.~.~.~

_**Regardless of what he had said, he clearly cared for her. So why did he push her away yet defend her honors? Despite her aloofness, his actions had hurt and confused her. She desperately wanted an explanation.**_

_**Little did she know it would come sooner than she expected, bringing with it the dark revelations of his changes, when his instincts were triggered by her fragrance—violets.**_

**~.~.~.~**

Yoriena cast a glance at the café, turning her gaze away from the auburn leaves that tumbled in the wind. Eyes of greenish-gray blinked once, twice, as Shinji dashed out of the café. A brow curved as he dashed past her.

_What's wrong with him anyways?_ She nibbled her lower lip as that single thought crossed her mind. Dark pupils slanted to throw a brief glance past the clear glass at the other diners in the shop. Every single one of them was watching the swinging door with wide-eyed amazement. Forks, spoons, and even cups, were suspended in midair. Mouths hung open.

She bit back a scoff. Apparently, even in this modern world, it wasn't usual to charge out the way Shinji had done.

A surge of reiatsu pulsed through the air. One tiny gasp escaped from parted lips as a suffocating sensation overwhelmed her. It was one of vile evilness, weighing upon her like a dark shadow, a heavy mass weighing her down.

Led by the devils of curiosity, Yoriena sent a trickle of power after the mysterious source. Never had he experienced something like this. It was not a hollow, yet no shinigamis she had ever encountered felt like this. What she discovered when her reiatsu skimmed across the unknown sent dread creeping down her spine.

It was a hybrid.

**~.~.~.~**

"Leave me alone..." Shinji wheezed between deep, heaving pants. He bent over; two hands supported on his knees.

Beads of perspiration trickled down the contours of his gaunt face as he lifted his eyes to stare at the whitewashed wall of a random building. He had long lost track of where he was, of how far he had run. The only thought within his mind was to put as much distance as possible between him and Yoriena, to forget her scent, and to calm his hollow down.

_No, not now_, he pleaded silently upon feeling a fearsome roar tear at his soul. Fingers curled into tight fists. Nails dug into his palms, drawing blood, and his knuckles whitened. His thin frame trembled from the harsh effort of reining his inner hollow in. Unchecked reiatsu burst towards the skies.

Shinji gritted his teeth, tensing, as his monstrous side cackled and taunted him to submit. But he mustn't, couldn't, give in to his animalistic instincts.

Not now.

If he did relent, the uncontrolled craze would lead him to rip someone apart. And it wasn't just any other person. There was a particular someone whom his hollow craved to shred into pieces, a particular someone whose blood his hollow longed to feel running through its claws.

And that someone was Soroki Yoriena.

**~.~.~.~**

"Get the hell off me," Yoriena murmured with stark displeasure as she, hidden in the shadows of trees, fought to pull free from her gigai.

Damn him.

At that moment, judging from the indirect yet cruel torture she was subjected to, she could swear that she had owed Kisuke something, leading him to hold a personal, petty grudge against her. After all, despite knowing her fear and detestation towards the feeling of confinement, he had forced her into the prison of hell.

A shiver tingled her nerves, disjoining her thoughts, as another wave of bizarre powers gushed over her before waning like the backwashes of tides. _What is this_? A hand rested on the tree trunk for support while the other shoved at the lifeless, floppy mannequin.

Despite Yoriena's uncanny intuition, she was not aware that tens of miles away, Hirako Shinji was enduring living hell for her sake. What concerned the annoyed girl more were matters closer to home, such as her obstinate gigai and the latest threat looming over one cursed town. Shinji's odd behaviors had been long forgotten—her chase after him were hampered by her gigai when he shunpoed off, and later by the mysterious intruder.

Never did he expect the latter to be the one she thought she knew.

**~.~.~.~**

"_Hikari-sama, do you know what's going on?" _Yoriena queried as she made her way towards her target. _"Who—what—is this thing?"_

"_I know as much as you, Little One,"_ her zanpakutou's voice was tender, serene, as it sounded in her wielder's mind.

Effortlessly, without a reply, the shinigami sprang from one rooftop to another. Deep, calming breaths left her as she slipped into a mediative state, letting herself go free. Eyelids were lowered to screen those silver-touched eyes, allowing her to rely entirely on instincts to dodge the obstacles in her path.

Wind threaded through her auburn locks, fanning them out behind her. She sighed with pleasure, an unconscious smile tugging at her lips. Shunpo was her release, her sole escape from the harsh, materialistic world. Beneath the sunlight, her hair glowed. A halo of dark-gold rested upon her crown.

"_I really pity those who can't shunpo. They don't even know what delights they're missing out on,"_ Yoriena commented through the mental link she shared with her zanpakutou, earning a slight scoff from the spirit. No longer could the fukutaichou remember the last time she had walked, save the embarrassing episode with her gigai. She greatly preferred shunpo over what, in her opinion, was a snail's crawl.

Most shinigamis who could flash step avoided doing so through buildings due the difficulties it presented. Yet, the shunpo expert loved it, loved darting through paths at breakneck speed, loved having to brake and turn at the last second. It was her one talent. Though this time, she took the easy way out, running on the roofs, for it sped up her progress and allowed easier chasing of her moving target.

"_Little One, up ahead."_

"_Yes, I sensed it too. It's slowing down."_ A pleased smirk flashed across her countenance. She liked knowing that whoever—whatever—she was chasing could not outrun her. Then again, few could.

She touched down before a deserted alley and strode forward. For once, she remembered that it was dangerous shunpoing straight into the enemy's territory; Soifon would be proud of her.

"_Be careful,"_ the zanpakutou warned tersely, _"I don't like this one bit."_

"_I'll be okay," _Yoriena assured, _"taichou's coming soon, and sensei's nearby, so everything will be fine."_ A sigh of faint exasperation and amusement breathed from her other half for Yoruichi and Soifon seemed to be Yoriena's security and comfort for everything.

"_Really, it'll be alright,"_ the shinigamis insisted with a hint of affront. Yet, the moment those words left her inner voice, she froze. The sight of a lanky man with short but straight blond hair startled her.

"Shinji-sama?" Despite the grudge she held against him, it was hard ridding an old habit and keeping the 'sama' from his name.

Hesitantly, cautiously, she took a timid step forward. Something was not right. Taking every bit of precaution, she let her reiatsu nudge against his barely constrained ones, and flinched upon touching the dark aura she had been tailing all these while.

"Yoriena..." he muttered. The weak barrier he had erected around his spiritual pressure crumbled at the contact. She paused in her advance, waiting for him to continue. "I want you to run!"

She flinched, gray-hazed eyes of ivy widening as though his words had physically struck her. "No," she murmured, "I want an explanation. Is this..." She drew a breath. "Hollowfication?" It would be a lie to say she was not afraid, because she was, yet the curious and deadly stubborn side of her forced her to stay, refusing to let her back off without knowing why.

"Leave now—" Fear flittered across her tinted orbs as Shinji interjected himself with a roar. He slumped and fell onto the ground, features paling till ghastly. Brown pupils clouded.

"Shinji-sama..." she whispered. Uncharacteristic concern stormed her countenance. He cut her off with a beastly snarl, snapping his jaws before gagging violently. Limps jerked spasmodically on the ground. Worried, Yoriena stepped forward, and bent down to help him up...

Only to fly off with a punch in her chest. Pain racked her frame as she slammed into the wall of bricks and concrete, and slid onto the cement floor. A burst of white light blinded her vision; she fought against the urge to scream in agony. One hand pressed at the left side of her ribcage, feeling a broken bone, while she waited for the startling whiteness to dim and fade. Waited for Shinji to lunge at her once more.

But no attacks came.

With a barely stifled wince, she picked herself up from the ground. The back of her hand moved to wipe away the trickle of blood that had spilt past her lips and down her chin. Eyes blinked to focus on him—her opponent...enemy. She was a trained fighter, so no way would she go down without a fight, yet...

The stunned fukutaichou watched as Shinji arched his back and howled to the skies. There was a horrid retching noise as white liquid poured from his mouth and covered half of his face in a gooey mess. Anguished, stiffened fingers clawed at his throat. Shinji wheezed, desperately trying to feed his starved lungs. Eyes widened. Pupils dilated.

"_Stand back, Little One."_

The zanpakutou's command drew her wielder back into reality. Slowly, Yoriena backed off, a step at a time, unable to tear her eyes from the horrific scene. White substance flowed down Shinji's front, forming bones that armored his thin body. Sharp spines exploded from his back; droplets of blood showered the girl. She choked back a gasp as his fingers lengthened and sharpened into claws.

_So...This is hollowfication._ But understanding neither brought about acceptance nor alleviated her fear. If anything, it strengthened the terror tearing at her.

"No, no...NO!" Yoriena's whimper ended with a little scream as insane fear took over her, driving her over the edge. And all these, including her own reactions, scared her. No longer could she remember the last time she was this afraid, other than the time Soifon had failed to return from her daylong mission. She, half crazy with fear and worriment, had hunted for her missing taichou for nearly a week before finding her injured and under the care of a Rukongai commoner.

With a single bound, the hollow covered the distance between them two. One tail of thick bones swung. Instincts kicked in; she jumped out of the way with practiced grace. Landing several feet away, Yoriena wrapped her fingers around the wooden hilt of her katana and unsheathed it with silent, deadly stealth.

"Stay away, whoever you are," she pleaded. Quivering hands held the sword before her. "Don't come any closer...I don't want to hurt you."

A somersault brought her away from the claw that lashed. The hollow roared a reply, and charged towards her. She sidestepped the lumbering monstrosity and aimed a flurry of kicks at its spine. It slammed back, into a wall, smashing bricks into smithereens. Blinded by dust, the shinigami barely dodged its long tail as it came whipping towards her.

"_LIttle One, release me. You can't win him with mere strength."_

"_I can't hurt him,"_ a quaking Yoriena argued, sheer despair clouding her mind. Hikatori was right. There was no one she could emerge victorious, or even alive, using just hakuda and zanjutsu. The kicks from earlier had sent sharp chills of pain through her ankles, yet inflicted no visible damage on the hollow.

Then, he—it—looked her in the eye.

If what she had felt earlier was fear, what gripped her right then was maniacal terror. The gob covering Shinji's face had molded into a mask resembling a pharaoh with a short, flowing hood hanging down the back of his neck. When she caught sight of his black sclera and gray irises, she thought she would lose all sanity.

Searing pain tore through her flesh and racked her bones, knocking some rationality into her. Teeth gritted as unbidden tears of agony gathered in her eyes. Blood gushed from the deep wound that ran across her waist, a wound courtesy of Shinji.

Damn.

"_He'll kill you if you don't release me."_ Hikatori was frantic, desperate. _"He's no longer Hirako, he's a monster."_

After a doubtful, hesitant pause, Yoriena nodded. Using her shikai would drain her faster, but at least she could try and restrain the beast. "Engulf all in your radiance, Hikatori!"

**~.~.~.~**

He grasped the red hilt of Sakanade, guarded and fuming eyes glowering at the dark-haired youth standing before him. The subject of his fury cast him a relaxed grain before reaching for his own zanpakutou. Eyes narrowed with contempt. WIth a fluid arc, one too fast for most to catch, Shinji's katana was out of its wooden sheath. His hollow mirrored his movement.

Looking at the dark blade of Sakanade, Shinji couldn't help but recoil mentally. In spite of the many times he had witnessed it, he had never gotten used to seeing Sakanade's reverse. Or his own, for that matter. Though hollowfication had given him great powers, powers he would never have attained otherwise, he would have gladly done without this cursed, unwanted gift.

His hollow leered with a touch of wickedness, sensing his discomfort. Shinji scowled heavily and lunged at it. He didn't have a choice. He had to defeat the twisted maniac and end the attack he was most likely launching on Yoriena in the real world, else she might just...die...in his hands.

* * *

**Summary for Chapter IV**

When handed the truth she had wanted all these while, she found herself regretting her wish. Despite her determination, deep down, she knew that her only hope for survival was her backups' arrival. But neither Soifon nor Yoruichi seemed to be appearing.

When forced into a fight for life, and not just for his own, Shinji had no choice but to give his all. But why did his hollow emerge all of the sudden? And what did it want from Yoriena?

* * *

**Authoress' Note:** Thanks you everyone for your reviews and compliments! They made me one happy little authoress and fed my needy mentality. To those who logged in when reviewing, I'll reply via the message thingy. For the others, your replies will be at the bottom of the following chapter.

* * *

**Messages**

**To 10 FallingStar: **Thank you for the review and suggestion! I don't think I'll be stating the point of view for it seems unprofessional, but I'll try and make it as obvious as possible. Probably by stating the name or a significant feature of that character in the first paragraph or something. Hope you liked this chapter!


	4. Stubborn Pride

**Dedication: **To Mishini I dedicate this chapter. Thank you for all the support you've offered, for the review, and for making me one really delighted authoress. Thank you.

**Disclaimer:** Bleach and all related concepts belong to Tite Kubo. I own nothing save this plot and my character, Soroki Yoriena.

* * *

**Autumn Fire**  
_A Soroki Yoriena & Hirako Shinji Novel_

_**Chapter IV**  
__Stubborn Pride_  


**_By Shadow Countess_**

**~.~.~.~**

_**When handed the truth she had wanted all these while, she found herself regretting her wish. Despite her determination, deep down, she knew that her only hope for survival was her backups' arrival. But neither Soifon nor Yoruichi seemed to be appearing.**_

_**When forced into a fight for life, and not just for his own, Shinji had no choice but to give his all. But why did his hollow emerge all of the sudden? And what did it want from Yoriena?**_

**~.~.~.~**

She was going to die.

He was going to kill her.

The lonely thought danced across her mind as she fell to the ground. Yet, what gripped her was not fear, but rather, pride and regret.

She had given her all, done her best. She had fought till the very end, fought the way an Onmitsukidou assassin should fight. She was proud.

But she wanted to say sorry. To her. She owed her a farewell, an apology. For the promise she had broken. And him. She owed him an explanation, an apology. For the cruel words she had said, for the pain she had caused. She was regretful.

However, it was all too late.

Because she was going to die.

**~.~.~.~**

"Shinji!" The cry that sliced through the air was one haunted by terror and despair as Mashiro stopped before the monstrosity that was once her friend. The other vizards arrived moments later in a flurry of rapid shunpo steps, having detected the dark and eerily familiar reiatsu contaminating the air.

"Mashiro, stand back!" Lisa ordered tersely, her katana drawn and clasped in her hand.

Said girl halted in her advance towards Shinji, turned, and cast a steady, defiant glare at Lisa. She shook her head. "No, I won't."

"Mashiro." Lisa's voice was uncharacteristically gentle as she pleaded. "Please stand aside."

"I won't let you hurt him," Mashiro reiterated, reaching for her own zanpakutou. Murky eyes of pale olive were alit with worriment and determination. Worriment, that Shinji wouldn't make it out alive, and determination, to protect him from the other vizards, to stop them from ripping him apart.

_Dammit, not now_, Lisa cursed, sensing another one of Mashiro's infamous, much-dreaded tantrums coming up. Her own hollow urged her to beat some sense into the younger girl, and, for the first time, she agreed with it.

To her pleasant surprise and relief, Kensei moved forward, shoved her out of the way, and stomped towards Mashiro. For once, Lisa did not scold him for his rough, barbaric act. Time was too precious to be wasted on meaningless bickering.

There was a squeal of shock when Mashiro found herself lifted off her feet by the collar of her shirt. Kensei had grabbed her like a dog with a collar, and shook her violently. Brows were constricted with anger. He shouted at her, demanding that she acted her age for once.

Hurt tainted his ex-fukutaichou's camouflage green eyes, but nonetheless, she kept quiet. Though she was hopelessly childish and stubborn at times, she knew better than anyone when not to go against her former taichou's wishes, especially when he was enraged.

"Shinji..." Hiyori murmured. Unnatural concern colored her features. He, or rather, it, cut her off with a feral snarl, its jaws snapping menacingly.

"Duck!"

At Love's warning, Kensei hit the ground, bringing Mashiro down with him, just in time to dodge the sharp claw that sliced the air where his neck was a mere moment ago. He swore the claw was whistling as it swung past. Brutally, he towed Mashiro back to stand with the rest, Tachikaze unsheathed and ready. Shinji, now an unrestrained, hellishly strong hollow, was on the move.

And it wanted no one standing in its way.

**~.~.~.~**

"Wonder how long it'll take to kill your lil' sweetheart."

Shinji scowled, not replying, as he clashed blades with his hollow. Just his luck, or lack thereof, to end up with the most annoying, arrogant, and rude one. Sure, those monsters were supposed to bring out one's dark side, but he was confident he was not so stuck-up, ill-mannered, and irritating.

The hollow vanished from sight. Shinji pivoted on his heels, a second too late. He groaned when the sharp blade sank into his flesh, cutting his side. His breaths came in short pants from both pain and exhaustion as he clutched at the deep gash. Blood oozed.

"Why don't you just give up and die? Unlike you, I have improved since our last fight," the hollow jeered, referring to the defeat he had suffered a century ago. Besides this, that was their one and only battle—Shinji had always taken care to keep it under control. "I promise to kill her for you after you die."

Shinji's eyes narrowed at those words; he slashed with renewed vigor. A wide grin stretched the hollow's pale lips as he blocked. Dark eyes glinted maniacally. Finally, his damn master would give him the fight he had been longing for.

"Why are you so eager to protect her anyways? Don't you _hate_ her?" it taunted, its zanpakutou a rapid blur as it shielded and attacked. "Why, I recall you proclaiming your _hatred_ for her just 'cause she didn't ask that cat woman about you."

Shinji gave a low growl, hating his hollow for knowing him too well. He knew only too well what it was referring to.

That day, he had paid Yoruichi a visit after her return from Soul Society, and had eagerly asked her about Yoriena. Though she had not contacted him over those years, he had thought she would at least ask her teacher about the group of them. If what she had lacked, and needed, was a chance to find them, it was only natural for her to seize the opportunity when handed to her on a golden platter. Or so he had believed.

She had not asked.

He had undergone enough emotion changes to last him for the next century. Anger, that she had not cared, and sore disappointment. He thought he knew her, but apparently, he did not. On the rooftop, he had reminisced.

She was the girl he would have willingly given up his life for, the princess he was a knight to. Before his exile, no one could understand what he, and three others, had seen in her. To be honest, he did not either.

He just liked being with her, liked her for who she was. She was the one who had endured endless beatings from Soifon during training, yet had stood up for her when time called for it. She had let Yoruichi toy with her like a toy, had pleased Kisuke with her questions on whatever experiment he was engaged in, and had brightened his day with her quiet charms.

Though she was cold to others, she had truly cared for the four of them. Her four saviors who had given her a second chance to life, as she used to fondly say. He doubted he could say the same for the new her.

There were few in Seireitei closer than the two of them. After his exile, she had been the first one he had thought about, the first one he had fretted over. Restlessly, he had waited for her to leave Soul Society to join him. She hadn't, and he was upset. True, he was being selfish, asking her to throw her everything away for him, but he would have done the same for her.

That day, assuming that he was alone, that there was no one around to witness his angered words, he had shouted that he hated her. He had forgotten about _it_, his revolting other half. The monster had remembered his words and, when the time came, used them against him.

"You're taking over me to kill her?" Shinji demanded, stunned by the realization. It was so absurd.

A nod. "You hate her, I hate her, so why not rid ourselves of her? I'll give her the wildest night she's ever gotten before plucking every single strand of her pretty hair, gorging those damn eyes, and ripping her organs out, one by one. Just think about this: her blood, her fear, her pleas...Ain't it just lovely?" Inky eyes widened with shock as Shinji pounced onto him once more.

"I'll never let you touch her," he seethed through clenched teeth, "sure, I hate her, but that doesn't mean you can do whatever you want to."

The hollow's eyes, ablaze with fury, bore into his deep hazel ones. He flinched inwardly, reading the pure anger burning within. And there was something else...Desire. Fiery longing raged within its depths. A wave of nausea and disgust washed over him.

His hollow wanted her.

**~.~.~.~**

"Binds!" Kensei called out to Hachigen. With a wave of the short but sturdy combat knife that was his shikai, he sent an air blade soaring in Shinji's direction. The monstrous remains of his fellow vizard avoided it deftly. Its long tail trashed. Rose winced as it smashed through a brick wall, chunks of red raining down.

"Bakudou sixty-three, Sajo Sabaku," Hachigen chanted, colossal hands pressed before his chest in a prayer. Chains welded from gold energy formed to wrap around the hollow.

The beast tossed its head backwards, writhing in vexation. A deafening roar erupted from its throat. Hachigen continued murmuring beneath his breath in a desperate attempt to strengthen his spell. Though normal souls, shinigamis and hollows alike, were incapable of freeing themselves using mere force, the encounter with a hollowifying Kensei a year ago had taught him that vizards were exceptions. And more likely than not, Shinji would win him in a battle of reiatsu.

Taking advantage of the momentarily break in the barrage of attacks, Lisa flesh stepped forward. Jumping over the still tail, she slashed at the white masked with her sealed zanpakutou. Hair the coloration of pure ebony strayed from the band that held them in place; dark strands fell onto her thin face. Like the others, numerous wounds, both deep and shallow, covered her frame. Her clothes were in tatters.

Swiftly, she pulled back her katana for a second slice, grim concentration etched into every line of her face. She was not letting Shinji go without a fight.

The binds snapped.

"Lisa!" came the cry of panic. Shinji's tail swung, catching her in the chest, and flung her across her alley. Her slender figure crashed against the wall, her head shattering one of the closed windows, and slid down, limp and unconscious. Blood gushed from the severe cut on the back of her head, forming a puddle of dark blood around her. Kensei moved to attend to her.

"Fuck," Love cursed and thanked the Gods that Shinji had chosen a deserted area of the town, one long abandoned by humans, allowing Hachigen to erect a kidou barrier and contain their reiatsus. Else, they would have attracted a hell lot of unwanted attention and unnecessary casualties. Of the human population, that is. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Hiyori charging forward with Kubikiri Orochi, now released, raised.

The hard steel of the cleaver clashed with the bony claw Shinji raised in defense. Lips twisted into a scowl when the long fingers held onto her blade. She raised a foot and kicked at its chest. It roared out in pain; its grip loosened for a split second. Seeing a chance and grabbing it, Hiyori wrenched, with painful brutality, her weapon from its grasp.

Her next blow was a chop at its tail. A resounding crack snapped through the air as the tip broke off. Panting, Hiyori darted back to stand with the other vizards, allowing Love to move forward for his turn. Unanimously, they had agreed to take turns attacking in hope of conserving their energy and extending their limit.

Rose cast her a sidelong glance and commented softly, knowingly, "You don't want to kill him, do you?"

"It isn't a 'him', it's an 'it'." was Hiyori's only reply, coupled with an ugly grimace, Her gaze, cold and unafraid, flickered to the hollow when it charged towards them. She ran forward to take over Love, sidestepped it, leaped into the air, and aimed a series of kicks at its face. It flew back.

A pause. And the hollow lurched back onto its feet and rushed towards her once more.

"Why won't you just go down?" Hiyori screamed in frustration, swinging her shikai to block the lashing tail. A loud, echoing clang followed. The tail whipped again. This time, she ducked and winced when it went through the wall. Chunks of plaster thudded to the ground. Dust rose.

Blinded, she barely dodged the tail that swished towards her once more. Simultaneously, its razor sharp claw shot out, nails cutting past her jacket into her left shoulder. A frown graced her features; she laid a hand on the deep wound. Blood seeped out. A surge of anger pulsed through her; her reiatsu flickered uncontrollably, startling everyone, including her. It didn't feel right.

"No fucking way," she murmured and bit down, hard, on her lower lip. Panic seized her. She stepped back, eager to put some distance between her and the raving monster. Drops of perspiration peppered her skin as she fought to keep her own hollow locked within her.

She parted her lips.

She roared.

She was losing consciousness.

Dimly, just before slipping into the whirl of darkness, she felt a hand smack the back of her head and pulled her back with a sharp jolt. She made a note to punch whomever it was in the face, good intentions or not.

_Just a while more_, Hiyori begged. She took a deep, trembling breath, praying to come into control of her senses soon. From somewhere beside her, she heard another roar. _Love!_ Fingers shifted their gasps on her zanpakutou's hilt, her vision blurring and fading with each passing moment.

"Cero!" Mashiro yelled out.

Shocked and caught off guard, the shorter girl raised her gaze to see a charging cero aimed at her head.

_Don't panic_, she told herself firmly, but in vain, as a wave of sheer despair overwhelmed her. She cursed her own hollow for being a distraction as she raised her shikai, wanting to use it as a buffer. Teeth gritted. She waited for the blast, certain that her shikai was not of enough use. Yet, she did not dare to draw her mask and produce a counter cero, afraid of losing what little sanity she had left.

For the first time ever, Sarugaki Hiyori prayed.

**~.~.~.~**

"As leaders of Gotei Thirteen, you are entrusted with the honor of defending Soul Society against Aizen and his followers. You must..." Yamamoto's voice thundered through the meeting room, deafening the taichous, fukutaichous, and the many guests who stood within the room. However, none showed any reaction, not even the slightest wince or flinch, for all were used to it. Yet, Second Division's taichou was growing restless.

_Why can't he shut up?_ Soifon grouched grumpily. In spite of her passive countenance, she wanted to bolt out of the room. _Just what is that old coot's problem?_

First, despite knowing it was Onmitsukidou's recruitment period, Yamamoto had sent Yoriena on a long term mission in Karakura. For times like this, the Second required all manpower, especially the fukutaichou. The reason he gave was that Yoriena would be of aid to Kurosaki in defending the town, and she needed to gain exposure to the other realm.

Then, he went against the general guidelines, refusing to let Soifon team up with her fukutaichou. A mission like this was classified as high risk due to the situation present, and according to the protocols, taichous could accompany their fukutaichous for a week. Especially if it was their first visit to the human world, like it was for Yoriena.

Finally, after much arguing, he had consented to let her leave, on the condition that Yoruichi would watch over the Second in her absence. Also, she was only given two days leave. It was recruitment period, after all. Grudgingly, Soifon compromised.

But what really irked her was the emergency meeting called moments before she stepped into the senkaimon. She would not have complained had there really been an emergency, but there were none. It was naught but a meeting to inform them of the importance of defending Soul Society against Aizen.

Oh so important.

It was not like they did not know, or were not informed of the matter many times before. And, for reasons unknown, the meeting encompassed every single fighter from the living world—Kurosaki, Inoue, Yasutora, Ishida, Yoruichi, and Urahara—effectively leaving Yoriena alone in the town.

And that, did not sit well with the overprotective taichou.

**~.~.~.~**

In the heat of the battle, no one noticed Soroki Yoriena.

The fukutaichou lay on the ground, bleeding, limp, and unconscious. Utterly destroyed. Her chestnut mane was strewn over the ground, her eyes were closed, and Hikatori was held between fingers drenched with blood.

Her blood.

Though she had released her zanpakutou, she was still no match for the former taichou, and was soon defeated. Caught by the ankles and flung like a broken rag doll, she was thrown into the shadows of the buildings, half-hidden from sight.

With a low moan of discomfort and pain, she stirred. Eyes of silver and green were dull as they parted and searched for Shinji, searched for that damn hollow. Only to find a group of people fighting against it. A slight frown touched her. Were they shinigamis?

She was about to reach for them with the little reiatsu she had left when their identities struck her. Especially that of the blond, pigtailed girl facing the hollow.

Sarugaki Hiyori.

"Go away..." Yoriena gritted through tightly clamped eyes as shocks of pain rocketed through her battered form. A wave of anger tided through her, fury, frustration, despair.

Why them?

Why her?

Why Hiyori?

Why?

Why were they interfering with her fight? She didn't need help, especially not from a bunch of _exiles._ She was willing to accept Shinji because of who he was, because of what she owed him, but she was not about to go running to the others with open arms. She had not liked them before their departure, and had continued disliking them. No way would she be indebted to them, of all people.

With a tired moan, she forced her eyelids to flutter open, forced her hazy vision to sharpen on the ongoing fight. She was a fukutaichou, for God's sake. Patrol Corp's commander and an assassin trained to fight, maim, and kill. So what if she was absolutely drained and immobilized? She neither needed nor wanted help.

Shifting her weak grip on her shikai, she muttered a few words, confident that they would put an end to all these, even though it was at the price of her life. "Cage of Thousand Beams..." Hikatori's strongest defense move. But not strong enough to overpower Shinji.

_I'm sorry, Hikari-sama, taichou, sensei...everyone._

**~.~.~.~**

Hiyori stumbled backwards with a startled cry at the burst of sharp, blindingly bright light that left her sightless. _Is this dickhead's cero?_ she pondered in amazement. It was so powerful, spreading out to encompass anything and everything. Yet, the pain she was anticipating never came. Trembling, she shielded her eyes, waiting for the lights to weaken.

When it dimmed enough for them to see, everyone was stunned to find Shinji locked in a cage constructed from beams of pure white light. The hollow roared and stomped its great claws, antagonized and distressed.

"What the hell," Kensei breathed wonderingly, "who did this?"

However, the prison of beauty faded a mere moment later, leaving as suddenly, unexpectedly, and elegantly as it had come. A few feet away, Yoriena breathed a quiet sigh of exhaustion, the last of her reiatsu drained from her soul. Eyes fluttered close; long, curling lashes of chestnut rested on her cheeks. The fingers wrapped around Hikatori's snowy hilt loosened; it shattered.

**~.~.~.~**

_What's going on?_ Soifon demanded, a sudden fit of breathlessness grabbing her. She inhaled desperately, wanting to ease the acute pain, but in vain. It was as though someone, or something, had gripped her lungs and squeezed all air out of them. Though she was certain that those in the room were reining their reiatsus in, the pressure that was unnoticeable mere seconds ago had become crushingly unbearable.

Faint and shivering, she fought to remain upright as the dense pressure weighed down on her shoulders. _Damn_. Her knees quaked, her brows furrowed, and her fingers were clenched into tight fists with nails cutting into her flesh.

The glance Yoruichi cast in her direction was one of worry and concern. She must have sensed her protégée's discomfort, though no one else did. Slowly, Soifon shook her head, not wanting to raise an unnecessary hoo-ha.

"I'm alright," she mouthed.

And then, it vanished. gone as promptly and surprisingly as it had come. She was alright again.

**~.~.~.~**

Once again unconstrained and utterly infuriated, Shinji moved to attack. Rose stepped forward, wanting to block the blow for an enervated Hiyori, when the milky white bones forming the hollow's virtually impenetrable armor clattered onto the ground. A human Shinji stood before them on unsteady footing.

He looked haunted, and completely dazed.

"Shinji, you're okay!" Mashiro greeted him with a bright cheer before throwing her arms around his neck. Kensei scoffed with faint amusement. Trust her to forget about the fight and her injuries as soon as it was over.

As she released Shinji from her death grip with a wide smile, his knees buckled beneath his weight. She caught him and lowered him onto the ground tenderly, gingerly. Her smile faded upon her taking in his features.

He was deadly pale, blood trickled from a corner of his lips, and his eyes were half-lidded and glazed. Tears of pity swam within her eyes. If her fight against him had been bad, then the one he had against his hollow must have been hell. After all, she had the others backing her up, rendering her support, while he was all alone.

"Rest," Hiyori muttered softly, crouching next to him. Lips quivered. She had nearly lost him, and herself. Sepia-touched eyes of his darted around, unseeing, before closing, too tired to stay open. Colorless lips moved. She bent lower, in time to catch the barely audible word.

"Hime."

"Hime?" she repeated uncertainly. Those crowding around Shinji—Kensei and Hachigen were with a rousing Lisa—exchanged bewildered looks. Her, again? That was when Mashiro caught for their attention with a startled gasp, a finger pointing to the unconscious figure lying some distance away. Apparently, she was an unlucky being who was at the wrong place at a wrong time, and flung to the other end of the alley by Shinji.

To their horror, as they walked over for a closer look, they realized that she resembled her. Hime. Shinji's hime. Soroki Yoriena.

**~.~.~.~**

"Soutaichou, I request a leave from the meeting."

Gazes of astonishment were tossed in Soifon's direction as she interrupted Yamamoto's droning. Never once had the stoic, rule-abiding taichou cut in on the soutaichou; never once had they expected her to do so. Yet, here she was, doing so before their very eyes.

"There are some important matters I have to attend to." She prided herself for not barging out of the room the moment she understood what the fit had meant.

"And what may those matters be, Soifon-taichou?"

"My fukutaichou's in danger."

* * *

**Summary for Chapter V**

Together, the vizards had protected the town against the hollow. Hirako Shinji had won his inner hollow, though not in time to protect his hime like he had hoped to do. Soroki Yoriena had lived up to her reputation, had not let her pride down, but all was done at the price of her life and health. Soifon, through methods strange and unknown, had finally realized that her fukutaichou was in danger, yet it was too late, was it not?

Just what was the price paid that day?

* * *

**Authoress' Note: **Fin.

Anyways, I want to thank each and every one of you lovely souls who had been a ray of light, of _hikari_, to my life. Every review made me giggle like the hopeless dope I am, and all the pluses made me feel that I've done a good job. Now, the review whore side of me is showing, and I shall stand in the streets and beg for reviews ;P They make me infinitely happy and giddy with delight. Also, they fill me with the sudden urge to sit in front of my Mac and type random things that hopefully, will make up a chapter. Hint, hint? :)

It's great knowing that there are people reading my stories, and it's greater still knowing that there are people who like it. I write to bring my creations to live, for personal relaxation and therapy, but most importantly, I write to make every single one of you out there happy. And you made this dream possible for me.

Thank you.

* * *

**Messages**

**To 10 FallingStar:** Haha, yes, I know I'm totally wonderful. Or is it stubborn and unreceptive to change? That's what my mom said about me, at least. Anyways, thank you for reviewing, and I'm glad you like the previous chapter. Hope you've enjoyed this one as well!

**To ks: **Ah, yes. Somebody was being really, really mean to the one Bleach guy she likes, but it was all for the sake of literature. And Shinji, well, let's just say he suffered no permanent, longterm damage from this. Nothing a good night's sleep can't cure. Do tell me if you like this chapter!


	5. Shattered World

**Dedication:** To XxKuragari no KagexX I dedicate this chapter. Thank you for all the support you've offered me over the past months...almost a year...since the first chapter of _Returning Home_ and Yoriena's debut here on. I really appreciate everything, and of course, a dedication was long overdue. And I'll write something nice for your birthday next year. Promise. Do forgive me for being such a horrid friend, and hope you like this!

**Acknowledgment:** Special thanks to my dearest friend, Monkey, for offering me valued critics while proof-reading my works when all seem terribly wrong. I got myself beta-readers (to alleviate her task), but it was a lot easier to let her do the proof-reading. We do see each other every single day...And for putting up with me when I send her emergency mails, hysterically asking her to beta my fics, simply 'cause I got a bad bout of writer's block. And for laughing with me over stupid things in my fic, things you all would never get to see...

*Huggles* I love you! (Though, rest assure, there's nothing going on between us...We just come from a very...vocal...girls' school.)

**Artworks:** I got Monkey to do a few pictures of Yoriena, Hikatori in sealed form, and an _Autumn Fire_ Omake. You can link to it from my FanFiction profile page, or go to my deviantArt gallery (username's Shadow-Countess).

**Disclaimer:** Bleach and all related concepts belong to Tite Kubo. I own nothing save this plot and my character, Soroki Yoriena and her zanpakutou, Hikatori.

* * *

**Autumn Fire**_  
A Soroki Yoriena & Hirako Shinji Novel_

**Chapter V**_  
Shattered World_

_**By Shadow Countess**_

**~.~.~.~**

_**Together, the vizards had protected the town against the hollow. Hirako Shinji had won his inner hollow, though not in time to protect his hime like he had hoped to do. Soroki Yoriena had lived up to her reputation, had not let her pride down, but all was done at the price of her life. Soifon, through methods strange and unknown, had finally realized that her fukutaichou was in danger, yet it was too late, was it not?**_

_**Just what was the price paid that day?**_

**~.~.~.~**

"What happened, Bee?" Yoruichi questioned as she raced after her protégée with Urahara half a step behind. Soifon was scaring her. After nearly passing out during the meeting with Yamamoto and many others, she had asked to leave on account that Yoriena was in danger, and had demanded that Kisuke tagged along. Yoruichi had followed out of concern: Soifon never wanted Kisuke in the near vicinity. "Tell me."

"Yoriena's reiatsu vanished," was the curt reply.

Locks of dark purpled flounced as she shook her head, full lips parting to heave a sigh of stark exasperation. "Look, Bee, Yoriena's a fukutaichou. You have to show her the basic faith and respect, not speculate and freak over every little thing."

Even Rukia could handle such an easy mission," Urahara added, only to regret when an icy glare was tossed his way.

"Kuchiki messed up big time, and Aizen wasn't on the move then," came the harsh reminder. I'm not speculating: I know. And she's hurt." Brows drew into a tight frown. _Why did her reiatsu vanish?_ It made no sense whatsoever.

The older shinigamis exchanged fleeting glances of resignation and mild amusement. It was futile arguing with Soifon when her mind was set, no matter how insane and absurd her theory was. All they could do was to follow, keep her out of trouble, and hope that she would come to her senses soon.

Never once did they expect that Soifon was right, especially since the truth went beyond their wildest imaginations.

**~.~.~.~**

Her inner world was destroyed, shattered, and in tatters. An utter mess. No...Teeth chewed on lips as smoky eyes of green flickered to take in her surroundings. A mess was an understatement; a severe understatement.

Everything adorning the abundant land that was her inner world had either vanished, or was about to do so, lingering at the border separating life and death. Most creatures had disappeared, and the scene of nature was in shambles.

With shivers of heavy apprehension crawling through her flesh, Yoriena knelt beside the fawn lying on the ground, its feeble form resting on a parch of withered grass. Its fur was skeletal and dull, lacking the usual shine of the line it was crafted from. Mournful eyes of dark liquid gazed at the shinigami, life and light slowly seeping from its very soul.

Deeply unnerved and disconcerted, she reached out a hand to brush its side, only for...Eyes narrowed dangerously as her fingers passed through its fur, skin, and sank into its hollow, fleshless body.

What was going on?

**~.~.~.~**

A low groan, and he forced his eyelids to part. Disorientated eyes of brown stared up at the whitewashed ceiling, only to shut with a hard squeeze when the lights and walls began to spin and close in on him. So he was back in his room...

"You're awake," a voice sounded somewhere on his far right.

"Nah, I'm Shinji." Lips grimaced at the dry croak that was his gruff voice. With painful slowness, he lifted his head off his pillow and probed his body into a sitting stance, leaning heavily against the pillows. Hiyori would have moved forward and helped him up had there not been an unspoken rule amongst the vizards. With that rule set in place, doing so would have been a clear insult on his pride. "Who else can I be?"

"A dickhead."

Sepia-hued eyes rolled, yet a single brow arched with clear incomprehension, for the reply lacked her usual mockery and disgust. Instead, it was almost teasing with an uncharacteristic hint of gentleness. And of course, he couldn't help but let slip a comment. "Did you hit your head somewhere?"

Those orbs of pale blue narrowed in his direction, only to flicker away a mere moment later. "God, one moment awake, and you're already making an ass outta yourself." A quick breath, and when she next spoke, her tone was lowered and much more somber. "You scared us, Shinji. One moment, everything was fine. The skies were blue and the birds were chirping, and the next, you were going crazy...wild..."

Thin shoulders drooped into a slump at the memory. He had lost control of his hollow and had gone on a wild, uncontrolled rampage because of—Shinji sat up straight, his movements so abrupt that Hiyori jumped back with an involuntary yelp of shock. "Where is she?"

"She?"

"Yoriena. She was there, and I..." Guilt and hatred twisted his guts as the sensation of claws—his claws—sinking into flesh, drawing massive amount of blood, came to mind. "I hurt her."

"Soroki, she..." Hiyori started cautiously and halted, nervously watching him.

"What happened?"

A single hand rested on his arm as she posed the soft, hesitant question. "You won't freak if I tell you this, will you?" She didn't want to let him know, for he would panic and fret, yet it was only a matter of time before he found out. After all, Yoriena was lying unconscious in a room a mere story above, and things would only worsen if they lied to him.

He nodded wordlessly, dread swirling in his stomach.

"When we—Mashiro—found her after the the fight, she was near death. Her body was in tatters and her vitals were extremely low..." she trailed away, silently waiting for his reaction. He nodded for her to move on. "Hachi's using restrains to stop her spiritual particles from scattering, but she might not make it."

"Kisuke," Shinji managed to force out after a sledgehammer hit him on the head, stunning him, and dislodged his thinking abilities. She was hurt, and it was his fault. "Go get him."

"He was called back to Seireitei with Yoruichi-san."

"When would they get back?" With the two of them gone, they had no other form of contact with Seireitei, contacts they could trust.

Her answer was deathly grave, much unlike the usual sassy retorts she offered him. "No one knows."

"I'm going to drag his sorry ass back," came the fierce snarl as he lunged out of bed.

Hiyori stood up, stepped forward, and blocked his path with both arms outstretched. "You can't. They—those shinigamis," she spat venomously, "will come and kill us all!"

"So you rather let her die? She's just a child, Hiyori, a child."

"She was a child a _century_ ago! She's not your precious little Hime anymore," Hiyori retorted, furious and ferocious. "She's a fukutaichou! For all you know, she was the one who sent those assassins after us!" Her breathing was uneven, labored. Despite knowing that she was threading on thin ice, she carried on anyways, for it was the only way to stop him. "You're throwing us all away for her sake? For a person who didn't, and doesn't, give a rat's ass about us? Us who have stood by you?"

Shinji halted, shook his head, and pushed his way past Hiyori all the same. "I just don't want her to die because of me."

**~.~.~.~**

"Hikari-sama?"

The call, soft and hesitant, danced through the air. Eyes, alert and guarded, watched as she crossed the plains. It was not her style to call out and make unnecessary noise, but here, there were no enemy assassins prowling in the shadows to catch her off-guard. Ears strained to catch her zanpakutou's answer or a flutter of wings, but the only response was dead, heavy silence. Lips tucked into a thin line. Where was she?

One step, and a harsh, sharp gasp forced its way out from her throat and past her parted lips as a flash of burning pain tore through her frame, driving her down onto the ground. A burst of white colored her vision; fingers curled into tight fists as she writhed.

It was insane. Never had she felt pain that severe—the time she had been poisoned by enemies of Seireitei did not come anywhere close when to her, and that experience had been a trip down the road to hell.

And then, it was over.

As soon as it had come, the agony dissipated, leaving naught but a quivering wreck on the ground. Eyes were tightly shut, frame was trembling. It was as though every ounce of energy had been sapped from her very being.

"Damn..." the low, barely audible word tumbled from her lips, lips that were bloodied from a desperate bout of violent gnawing. "Why..."

Why was this happening?

No...What was happening?

Hands shoved at the ground, palms pressing into the rough soil, arms trembling, as she heaved her laden body into a faint resemblance of a sitting position and onto her feet. A step forward, and the fukutaichou found herself tripping in a failed attempt at shunpo and tumbling onto the uneven grounds, once again falling onto her knees. Those green eyes of tainted silver flittered to a close as she drew a long, quivering breath.

Damn it all.

Though she had always taken pride in being sturdy and tough, the pain had eaten into her. She could barely move, and was utterly and completely drained. Sapped of energy and reiatsu.

For someone who hadn't lost her cool in the past century, being thrown into a state of turmoil for the second time that day was an entirely new and unwelcome experience. It simply threw her off-balance, and the fear and confusion addled her mind. Blindly, she found her body moving on its own accord, carrying her over the grounds to search for Hikatori.

Terror gnawed at a corner of her heart as she passed by the river meandering down the valley. The stream that once shimmer with reiatsu—her reiatsu—was now completely dry. A few fish, paled till a shade of translucence, flopped on the cracked ground and dissipated before her very eyes.

Yoriena bit back a cry on anguish. She knew she was exhausted and empty, but having the truth hit her right smack in the face was a tad too much for her to take. Or maybe, that was what dying was like. To have the whole world crumble down around you before you too fade away.

Maybe...

Like a rubber band that had been stretched too many times and had weakened, the long, hard tug snapped her impenetrable control. Slowly, the shinigami sank to the ground, wrapped her arms around herself, and hugged her slender, trembling frame tightly. Never had she felt so lost.

**~.~.~.~**

"Kisuke!" was Mashiro's cry of delight as she flung her lean body into said guy's arms. "You're here!" Pouty lips curved into a wide smile of innocent happiness.

Sharp eyes the coloration of fresh mercury narrowed to cast hostile, exterminatory glares at each of the vizards in turn. "Is Yoriena here?" came the cold demand as she ignored the warm display of affection. One-sided affection.

Rose shifted nervously and stepped forward, one long finger unconsciously tucking a strand of wavy blond hair behind his ear. "Soifon-san," he greeted with a wary, shaky smile. "Nice to—"

"Cut the niceties, Otoribashi. Is my fukutaichou here or not?"

Yoruichi reached out to lay a hand on the taichou's shoulder and gave a hard squeeze of warning. "Rose, is Yoriena really here? Kisuke said she might be, but we can't sense her reiatsu."

Silence, thick and heavy, ensued.

"Something...cropped up," admitted Rose, "she—"

"She's in one of the spare rooms with Hachi," Lisa intervened. "This way." A hand pointed towards the opened doors as she led the trio out of the room and up the stairs, leaving the other vizards to wallow in unease and discomfort. "Urahara-san, we need your help."

"Is it...serious?" Yoruichi interjected anxiously, eyes of molten topaz scanning and taking in the numerous battle scars littering Lisa's exposed skin. From the looks of it, a fight had just occurred, and the outcome had not been desirable.

"Yes," the ex-fukutaichou responded and left it as that. Upon reaching the room farthest from the stair landing, she pushed the door open and stepped past the threshold. "Hachi, how is she?"

"Kisuke!" Shinji jumped up from his perch on the edge of the mattress on which Yoriena laid. They flinched at the thick concoction of emotions biting his tone—a mixture of fear, relief and desperation—and the sight that greeted them.

The target of their frantic hunt was resting on the bed in a deep slumber, still and unmoving. Her skin, though unnaturally pale, was ghastly white, forming a stark, unpleasant contrast with her shihakushou of black and the deep red blood staining her form. Dark tresses, lank and matted, was strewed on the bedsheets.

"What happened?" Soifon whispered, rooted to the spot. "Who did this to her?"

"I..." Shinji started, only to end off with a sigh and a slump of shoulders. "Kisuke, Hikatori broke."

Those who realized the implication of those two simple words blanched.

"When?"

"During the fight against..." A pause. "A hollow."

Urahara shook his head, uncharacteristic worriment lining his features. "Never mind about that for now. Yoruichi-san, please bring her back to Urahara Shouten. I'll run the tests there. Shinji, where's her gigai?"

"Not here. She must have left it at the café. I'll go get it?" He vanished in a flurry of swift shunpo steps when consent was given. Yoruichi slipped her student's lifeless form into her arms and headed for the door.

"Hachigen, follow us and hold the restrains." Said vizard nodded and shifted from his sitting stance at the curt order. "How long can you keep this up?"

"Two hours, with my mask."

"Please hold it there. Tessai will take over later. Soifon-san, can you stay and find out what happened?"

She hesitated, and, for the first time ever, she agreed with him. "Yes." It would have been an incident fit for the book of rare events of the century had the situation not been so tense.

**~.~.~.~**

A haunting song danced through the air, soft and barely audible, but sending shivers down her spine all the same. She knew only too well what it was, even though it was her first time hearing it, for the song was a part of her soul. It was the song of death, of mourning, it was the song of phoenixes.

It scared her.

With a hard bite of lips and a quick shake of head to clear her hazy mind, Yoriena picked herself up from the ground, graced a finger along her now empty sheath, and willed her legs to move. She had to find Hikatori, the phoenix of light, even if it killed her.

Not that it would make much of a difference, seeing she was going to die anyways.

The fright clouding her, mind and form, increased with each passing second. She plowed through the darkened forest that was once the color of vibrant hues of light. Most of the flowers were gone, scattered in the wind. The larger trees remained standing, but they too had lost their former majesty and were nearing their ends. With her reiatsu drained, the creatures no longer had the energy to take their shapes.

Lips fluttered at a sigh. When her world evanesced, it would be time for her to bade all farewell.

For the first time ever, she came to realize just how much she relied on shunpo. A mere twenty minutes of trudging had left her exasperated. Beads of perspiration dripped to sting her eyes, for the air was humid, damp, and had none of the wind she had come to associate with flash stepping. Her legs were heavy and aching, not only from the previous bout of pain, but also from the slow movement. After all, she was built for dashing, not plodding.

It was all wrong. And she hated it, hated the feeling of being so weak.

The air was getting stuffier. It was getting harder to breathe, and she was slowing down. Lifting her legs was becoming harder by the minute. To her, the truth had never been clearer.

She was going to die.

And it would be next to her zanpakutou.

She had to make it to Hikatori, lie beside her, and be covered by her wings of soft down before she would finally give in and close her eyes.

_What the_...Yoriena stared, finally reaching the clearing where she had first heard the song from. The magnificent phoenix curled in the middle of the few wisps of grass, her form dull and crippled.

"Damn it all," she mumbled, and added a few colorful words that would make most drunkards proud of her. Though she did learn those words from taverns while on patrol duty.

Wearily, Hikatori lifted her once prideful head and fixed her shinigami partner with her deep, soulful eyes. "Little One, you're here." Even at a time like this, her voice was stunningly rich and melodious.

_Nicer than mine would ever be_, Yoriena thought with a faint, forced smile. Slowly, precariously, she wobbled over on unsteady footing and curled down next to her. With painful slowness, Hikatori wrapped one of her wings around her thin shoulders and held her close.

"We're going to die, no?" the shinigami questioned quietly, her heart finally at peace. Being a part of Onmitsukidou for an entire century had taught her to be constantly prepared, and to accept the inevitable final.

And she did.

Though she did not want to leave like this, without a farewell, without knowing why, she would accept it with a calm heart and a placid mind. A sigh escaped. There were so much she wanted to do, so many goodbyes she wanted to bade, but...life was never fair to begin with.

"Yes, we are. I don't want to either," Hikatori confessed, sensing a slight turbulence in her wielder's emotions. "But some things just aren't within our control."

"I know..." _I just don't like it_. With that, Yoriena canted her head to lean against the queen of birds' form. Eyes batted and closed, for she wanted to block out the scene of destruction and hurt from her final moments.

Seconds ticked by and yet, the duo sat in stony silence, wordlessly enjoying the other's company. Hikatori started to fade, growing fainter by the second, while her wielder felt a wave of sleepiness wash over her.

Yoriena sighed. Sometimes, she wished she was a normal girl, one who cried whenever things went wrong, and this was one of those rare moments. It had been so long since she last shed a tear that she had long forgotten how crying felt like, but the stinging sensation pricking the back of her eyes felt faintly nostalgic. Still, it was pointless to break down at the last moments when she had spent her entire life being strong.

"Little One...open your eyes," Hikatori whispered.

Eyes fluttered open, and she stared. "Why?" the word of confusion sounded. The process of vanishing seemed to have halted. Death had stopped, sparing the last remaining creatures.

"Someone out there is helping you..."

**~.~.~.~**

The room was completely sunken in inky blackness save the faint glows of the many pieces of medical equipments lined up within the room. Above a screen bent a single being, anxious eyes of gray fixated on the erratic jumping lines.

"Kisuke...What's going on?"

The man did not bother to turn. Though he had neither sensed her reiatsu nor heard her entrance, he knew it was her simply by intuition. They were that in tune to each other's presence.

"Her reiatsu's fluctuating...Heartbeat's erratic. Her body is fighting itself to death, trying to keep her alive. Even then..." He straightened and intoned solemnly. "It's just a matter of time."

"Can't you keep her alive?" came the hoarse whisper. "Kisuke, no one knows about the secrets of shinigamis more than you do. Can't you do something? Reconstruct Hikatori?" Long fingers curled into fists as topaz-hued eyes held her lover in a steady stare. "Don't you dare quit before it really ends."

Head shook. "Hikatori's broken beyond repair. It's no longer strong enough to hold her wielder together. The only hope is to modify her gigai so that it can support her life processes in place of her body. Only...I'm not sure if she can last till then."

"Why did this happen? She was alright when we left her earlier today...She was perfectly fine." She took a step forward and ran a long finger along her student's ashen white arm.

"Did Shinji really do this?"

**~.~.~.~**

"Hirako Shinji."

Lean frame jolted to a halt at the icy call of his name that had come from behind. Reluctantly, he turned around to face her. "Soifon. I have to deliver the gigai to Urahara."

One thin brow of pure black arced at the mannequin he held in a single hand, its weight dragging along the grassy ground. "Okay, but I want to ask you this before we get back: Who hurt Yoriena?"

"An—" He ran the tip of his tense tongue over his lips. "A vaste lorde."

"Who hurt her?" came the echo. Furious eyes of steel fixed him with an unfaltering stare.

"A—" he tried again, only to be interrupted.

"Apparently, you guys have yet to come up with a proper story. Some of your fellow...comrades told me it was a group of adjuncas, yet here you are, insisting that it's a vaste lorde. I don't know who's speaking the truth, but I doubt both. Even if your skills have rusted over the years, a couple of low-class hollows should be a piece of cake for former taichous and fukutaichous, no? Yet, all of you are hurt in one place or another."

Shinji glanced away. "We—"

"The truth, Hirako. I want the truth. Or..." she hedged. "Do you not care about Yoriena anymore?"

A low growl was coupled with a frustrated sigh. I'd hurt her, alright? I hollowified and turned into a fucking hollow and nearly killed her, alright?"

Soifon merely stared. "I guessed as much. After all, you were evicted for becoming a hollow those years back, no?" She glanced at the ground, slender shoulders drooping into a slump. "Do you know, Hirako? When Yoriena wakes up, we'll have to tell her the truth, and I doubt she'll like it much."

"Let's deal with one problem at a time, okay? We'll get her to wake up first, and then face reality," he retorted shortly, noting her use of 'when' and not 'if'. Somehow, the taichou had more confidence in her subordinate than he had in his princess.

"You better pray that she will. If anything goes wrong...You did not royally mess up, Hirako. You've put your neck on the guillotine, and I'll be the one slicing that fucked up head of yours off."

* * *

**Summary for Chapter VI**

No matter how hard you try to forget, no matter how hard you try to hide, the truth is never gone for real. It is always there, hiding, lurking, in the shadows, until it leaps out to deal its blow. A blow that is always fatal.

* * *

**Authoress' Note:** To be continued...

It would have been nice to end with a 'Fin' and no summary...but nah, 'tis not the time to end it all. I know it's been a really long time...eons...since I last updated, but please forgive me. I can only hold up a shield in defense and blame it on the mess of exams, projects, writers' block, work and whatnots. Life is out of the world hectic for me right now, seeing finals start in 4 days time with French oral, which I will fail, and the accursed writer's block ensures that I have to write each line numerous times before anything seems alright.

This chapter took 8 to 9 attempts as a whole, not counting each individual line or section...I believe it killed me. Bleach is not really interesting right now, so my motivation for writing this was kind of...really low. As low as the Grand Canyon. On the bright side, Ichigo and Aizen have both stopped level upping, and Kisuke appeared, so maybe something good will happen?

I hope you all still like this story, that this chapter isn't too bad, and...I shall thicken my skin and ask for reviews. Please review! The drop in reviews for the previous chapter was really disheartening, but I shan't moan and bitch about it. After all, some of you have reviewed, and others have dropped me a note via Quizilla and even email. I really appreciate it, and they've made me really happy ^^ The next update will come...I won't promise anything, but definitely after 13th October when my exams end. Reviews are motivations...*Hints*

Thank you all.


	6. The Hidden

**Disclaimer:** Bleach and all related concepts belong to Tite Kubo. I own nothing save this plot and my characters, Soroki Yoriena, Soroki Minako and Kaguya.

* * *

**Autumn Fire**_  
A Soroki Yoriena and Hirako Shinji Novel_

**Chapter VI**_  
The Hidden_

_**By Shadow Countess**_

**~.~.~.~**

_**No matter how hard you try to forget, no matter how hard you try to hide, the truth is never gone for real. It is always there, hiding, lurking, in the shadows, until it leaps out to deal its blow. A blow that is always fatal.**_

**~.~.~.~**

With each passing moment, the sun shifted another inch downwards, towards the horizons. Fiery streams of sunlight colored the skies and clouds red, yellow and orange. The scene up above was so magnificent, so rich and pure, and so unlike the lands below, than it drew many away from reality.

Despondent eyes of silvery green flickered to cast a brief glance at the heavens. Night was fallng; it was time for her to head home, or risk facing her mother's wrath. Thin shoulders slumped; a sigh of resignation sounded. Even though the outsides of East Rukongai's Seventy-Eighth District was filled with danger and prowling murderers, she preferred it to the hell she had for a home. Outside, she could defend herself, killing if necessary, but at home, she was helpless. Completely at her mother's mercy. No matter how much she yearned, she could not plunge a dagger into the older woman and end her pathetic excuse of a life.

Bony fingers curled into fists that she pressed to her side. She knew she had enough reiatsu to become a shinigami, for she was constantly hungry, but no one from the slums had ever passed the entrance examinations and stepped into Seireitei. No one.

And she was no different, was she?

**~.~.~.~**

A few months back, her uncontrolled, wildly fluctuating reiatsu had attracted several hollows that were rampaging nearby. They had hunted her, and it was only the timely appearance of two shinigamis that had saved her life. Shihouin Yoruichi had taken her in as her student, and had provided her with a set of weapons to train with.

Many a times, the rich heir had offered to bring her mother and her away from the ghettos to the Shihouin Estate, but Yoriena would always mumble an excuse and turn her down. After all, under no circumstances would Minako agree to live with shinigamis—she detested them with a passion. Neither would she let her daughter leave. Hence, every other day, Yoruichi's shunpo practice would bring her to the lower district where she would train both Soifon and Yoriena. On several occasions, she was accompanied by her fellow shinigamis, namely Hirako Shinji and Urahara Kisuke.

Still, Yoriena knew it was only a matter of time before she steeled her heart, squared her shoulders, and abandoned her mother for a new life, one without burdens and pain, in Seireitei. She just need time.

"Mother, I'm home," she called out cautiously, stepping past the threshold into the shack. Nose wrinkled ever so slightly at the overwhelming stench of cheap sake. Shivers crawled down her flesh when she spotted a spider scurrying down a wall. She hated spiders.

"Come here right now." Soroki Minako had been from the upper districts before moving to the squatters, and hence, she spoke well.

Thin brows frowned uneasily. Usually, by this time of the day, the older woman would be too drunk to do anything, let alone form a coherent sentence, so why was she sober this time round? And she was talking to her. Minako never spoke to her, preferring to leave her alone so long she was back in time to prepare dinner.

Yes, mother." She crossed the dirt-covered floor carefully, taking care to avoid the spots where the wood had rotted through, and stopped before Minako.

"Where were you today?"

A pause. "Working," was the reply. Nervous eyes were lowered to the ground, occasionally flitting upwards to peek past her lashes, at her mother. Wordlessly, she handed over a small, ragged pouch that contained a few thousand yens—allowance from Yoruichi.

The next sentence froze her blood; her heart tripped in its beats.

"And the shinigamis I saw you with?" Minako spat. "They gave you this, didn't they?" She shifted from her kneeling stance to lean towards her seven-year-old daughter, greenish gray eyes aflamed with anger and malice.

"I...They were asking for directions," Yoriena replied meekly, her mind buzzing.

Minako barked a harsh, derisive laugh. "And decided to teach you swordplay and buy you lunch?"

A chill of fear seized and spread through her. Her heart thumped faster than ever, yet emptiness weighed at her chest.

"You were stalking me," she managed, trying to mask horror with anger and defiance.

A snort. "Stalking you? Why should I? I was merely following information Kaguya gave me."

Yoriena snapped, seething silently. Kaguya, again. That bitch. The two of them were once best friends, but ever since Kaguya found out that unlike her, Yoriena possessed reiatsu, everything had changed. She had done her utmost best to get Yoriena into trouble, not caring that her methods were the epitome of underhandedness. Whatever friendship and promises they had shared had dissipated in the wind that blew.

"What have I told you about shinigamis? They're a bunch of idiots with fucked up heads—"

"They're not," Yoriena interjected coldly, momentary frustration clouding her senses and covering her fears. "They're nice, nicer than you've ever been!" The shinigamis, those with the _fucked up heads_, were the only ones who had treated her kindly, as a person.

"Shut the fuck up!"

The next moment found her on the ground with a spinning head and ears that rang loudly as a slap sent her reeling. Lips twisted into a grimace at the salty tinge of metal that flooded her mouth: She had hit her jaw on a bit of protruding wood and bit her tongue.

With painful slowness, Yoriena hefted herself into a sitting position, her tiny frame hunched. One hand was balled into a fist while the other pressed against her aching jaw and smarting cheek.

"Look," she snapped wearily. "Just let me go. I'll earn more in Seireitei and give you more. Isn't that what you want? More money?"

"Like you'll ever return."

"I will!"

"You filthy, lying bitch!" Another hit. "Look, you lil' bitch," Minako whispered sibilantly, "you're not allowed to leave this house. Ever!"

Silver-touched eyes of green fluttered close, both from pain and annoyance—she hated being called a bitch. "You can't stop me," Yoriena retorted against her better sense. "I'll just run away."

When she opened her eyes moments later upon hearing a smash shake the room, she regretted caving in to the sudden impulse that had gripped her, regretted listening to the devil that had manipulated her mind. If her mother had been angry, she was totally deranged now: Minako's eyes were dark and animalistic with wild fury, and her lips were contorted into a ferocious snarl. In one hand was an empty bottle of sake while the other gripped a stake of rough wood.

"Watch me."

Insane fear clawed at her, and when Yoriena got scared, she got mean. Really mean.

Reiatsu poured out from the restrains she had kept it under and enveloped the duo. Eyes were drawn wide with a mixture of shock, horror and slight thrill at what she was doing—she was actually _defying_ Minako.

And then, the brief spell of elation passed as suddenly as it had come.

Another surge of reiatsu pulsed through the air, colliding with hers, and Yoriena felt herself being forced under. Tentacles of energy groped at her, wound around her neck, and squeezed all air out of her lungs. She spluttered desperately, clawed at the invisible, and aimed a few frantic kicks at her mother, but all was in vain. It was simply too strong.

She was driven half wild with terror. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't retaliate. No matter how hard she struggled, her spiritual powers were too weak to overcome her mother's. All advantages she thought she had due to her shinigami training was lost, for, unknown to her, her mother too was one.

"You think they're so wonderful?" came the hostile hiss. Hands clenched the front of Yoriena's shirt and pulled her upwards. "If it wasn't for them, we wouldn't be living here today!" she spat, and flung her daughter away while reining in her reiatsu.

Yoriena crashed onto the ground, coughing and gasping. Beads of perspiration gathered on her forehead and slid down the contours of her gaunt features.

"You're a shinigami," she gasped softly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you?" A shrill laugh, bordered with hints of hysteria, echoed through the room. "Why should? Why should I tell you anything? WHY SHOULD I?"

Yoriena had barely registered her mother's next move when the stake was driven into her body, wrenched out, and plunged in once more. Lips parted to call out a scream of acute agony when a gush of blood cut her off. Searing pain ripped through her petite frame. She trembled, waves of convulsion rolling off her.

Numbed, she pushed through the pain and got onto her knees. Her palms dug into the crumbling ground as she crawled towards the ground on all fours. Yet, moments before the tips of her fingers brushed against the wooden curb, a pair of hands seized her long mane of auburn and pulled her upwards.

Her neck was forced backwards, arched at an impossible angle. A pair of lips ghosted the lobes of her ears as a voice hissed. "You'll never become a shinigami. _Never_."

With that, her head was slammed into the filth and wood, smashing against the door frame with a sickening crack. Yoriena cried out in pain, but to no avail. Again and again, she hit the wood until a crash against the jutted edge knocked her out, blood pouring down her pale, lifeless face.

Minako cried. In victory.

* * *

**Summary for Chapter VII**

The truth, as many know, is not always welcomed. And when she found about about the truth behind her plight, Yoriena did not welcome it. Even though they implored for her to understand, even though her heart wanted her to forgive them. Because they had hurt her, had lied to her, had betrayed her.

She hated them so.

* * *

**Authoress' Note:** To be continued…

Shadow Countess has returned, finally, after months of hibernation, but to be honest, I'm hating my comeback. Or whatever you call it. Months of not writing has turned my writing skills, or lack thereof, rusty, and has dried my river of inspiration. When I stopped months ago, the river was teeming with odd, random plot bunnies, but now, there's nothing. Not even a lone cricket. I'm hoping it'll return soon, and that the future chapters ain't so icky. Though the next one is just as bad (it's written, and waiting for the final round of editing ;)

Anyways, feel free do point out my mistakes and offer me pointers wherever you see fit. No…Please do, because I've forgotten all that I've learned, and returned as a beginner. Heh ^^ To my new readers, welcome! To the world of wackiness and insanity and craziness and out-of-character-ness that Yoriena and Shinji dominate. To my old readers, welcome back! To the world of wackiness and insanity and craziness and out-of-character-ness that Yoriena and Shinji dominate. I'm glad you're still around. Happy~

Also, I've figured it's not humanly possible to like your own comeback, no matter how long you've waited for it, just like it's not humanly possible to _not _like Heo Youngsaeng's. _Let it go, let it go, let it go~_ Or SS501's, for that matter. Although they haven't had one. Yet. But they will. They can get together and sing a remix of _Mary Had A Little Lamb,_ and it'll still be the best song I've ever heard. After all their other songs, that is. Loves~

And I'm sorry that this is such a short chapter, but take it as a starter for the greater things to come. That, and I need to warm up ^^ Do wait for me, and Yoriena and Shinji, but for now, ciao!~

(Why do I always like my _Authoress' Note_ more than the story itself? And. If you want to know why I've disappeared for so long, it's on my profile page ^_~ )


End file.
